


New Recruits

by InfernalPume



Category: Final Space (Cartoon)
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Domestic Fluff, First Meetings, Fluff, Gen, I almost did, so fluffy you might die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22113418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfernalPume/pseuds/InfernalPume
Summary: Avocato meets someone special.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	New Recruits

Avocato supposed there was no way _not_ to feel sheepish twiddling his thumbs outside the battered up medical tent. Passers by, be they soldiers, pilots, or even civilian merchants all knew what it meant when a high ranking ventrexian officer had that look when those sounds were coming from behind the flap. There were a few smirks, some of them genuinely congratulatory and some of them less so, but Avocato would have preferred it if they could just skip the public fanfare and he could get some actual work done while he waited.

But alas, no live ammunition was permitted anywhere near the wounded and no plasma fluid near the sick. There wasn’t anything for him to fiddle with on this damn bench, so he was more than a little relieved when the tent flap swung open and Mewnagi stepped out into the setting sunlight. 

She looked pretty chipper considering the hour of yowling Avocato had just heard from inside, but that was ventrexian females for you. Back in her armour and up on her feet as soon as the job was done. Again there was a series of smirks as a thin crust of onlookers now circled Avocato’s bench like the fats in a stew pot. A few well-meaning but nonetheless _irritating_ chuckles as he rose, and as he lifted the flap to duck inside he faintly heard clapping from someone who obviously didn’t know him very well. 

“How many,” he asked once they were given some relieved privacy. 

  
  
“Three,” Mewnagi said, twirling the long amber tuft of fur on her cheek, “Happens sometimes. You remember the deal?”

  
  
Avocato looked over his shoulder at her. The bluntness was usually something he liked about her- part of why he’d agreed to this in the first place. Very practical, which made her good at her work. Even at her most vulnerable there was a pragmatism Avocato respected, never demanding too much of him for the duration of their three-month arrangement. But to be _this_ nonchalant...

  
  
“Yeah, I remember the deal.” He growled. 

Mewnagi gave him a soft smirk as she lead him past cots to the neat little square of curtains separating the injured from her handiwork. The bloody bedsheets had thankfully been dumped, though less thankfully he could still smell them in the bin nearby. It was almost purposely dark, too dark to get a proper look until Avocato knelt beside the cot. 

Three kits, just as Mewnagi said, expertly wrapped up like presents with only their facial markings exposed for inspection. 

“All boys,” Mewnagi drawled as she reached for the cold rations that had been left on a side table for her, “So I’m satisfied either way. You can still take two though.”

The way she nodded her head to the bundles spoke volumes. The two to the left, obviously. While not exactly identical the cream muzzles and dark fur made things a bit _too_ on the nose. He turned back to raise an eyebrow at her. 

“So we’re doing this based on _colour coordination?”_ he asked.

  
  
Mewnagi shrugged and plucked the clean bone she’d been sucking on from her mouth. 

“Call me a _romantic,”_ she said with a huff of laughter, “I like it when they look like me.” 

Avocato shook his head, then turned back to the kits. The deal _wasn’t_ that she’d get first pick, just that if there was three instead of four she’d get the boy. It was with something friendlier then spite that he reached first for the kit on the right. 

It was awkward for a minute there, he expected the wrappings to be a bit tighter- like a stone or a grenade. But Avocato could feel little limbs flopping under his fingers as he struggled to fit the kit against his arm and lift it for inspection. If Mewnagi took offence to this blatant disregard for her preference, it didn’t show in her voice. 

“Won’t walk for a week or two, but you’d be surprised how fast they’ll crawl by tomorrow.”

_“Oof..”_ The sound was soft and restrained, only uttered because Avocato wasn’t prepared for the sudden tightness in his chest. 

The kit’s eyes were pinned shut, his fur still a bit damp from when Mewnagi had likely towelled them down. He had the same cream muzzle as the others, but the diamond-shaped cap was a soft auburn. Mewnagi was right, he _did_ look like her as far as superficial markings went, but Mewnagi’s brow wasn’t as thick and her nose was black, not pink. 

“This one’s mine,” Avocato said matter-of-factly, before turning defiantly to face Mewnagi’s knowing grin. 

“This is your first siring, isn’t it?” she asked.

A silence. Avocato didn’t like what was being implied. It was broken by Mewnagi’s sigh. 

“Newbies,” she said dismissively, “So _sentimental._ Fine. But I get the other two.”

“That wasn’t-” Avocato growled, but then stopped and looked down at his hand. The bundle was _wriggling._

It was almost as if the little thing was fighting him. _Already._

“Deal.” Avocato said curtly, standing from where he knelt with his son in hand. 

Another chuckle from Mewnagi- this had to be the most he’s ever heard her laugh in the five years he’s known her- and she moved to sit on the cot with her boys. 

“Pleasure as always, Avo,” she said, “Gimme a year or two before we consider another batch. I’ll see you around- but probably not too much.”

A wicked smile, “You’re a pretty busy guy.”

Avocato rolled his eyes. She was just as bad as his ‘well-wishers’. Speaking of well wishers- Avocato took the back exit back to his own tent. This whole transaction had gone down a lot more _saccharine_ than he’d been promised. An unfortunate side-effect of having aliens project their own reproductive traditions onto a professional exchange between friends. 

And yet...

For his credit, Avocato waited until he was properly alone before he allowed himself to be overwhelmed. Well not _alone_ alone, he’d probably never be truly alone again- _fuck_ Mewnagi had got him with the sentimental thing. It was almost difficult to look back down at his son’s sleeping face. A perfect little dreamer with his eyebrows knit together in defiance. What did he even _have_ to defy? He was less than twenty minutes old! 

Avocato crumpled forward until the kit’s soft little cap brushed against his blaze. The moment lasted only a few seconds, and it wasn’t as if he _cried_ or anything. But Avocato’s breath was indeed shaky when he straightened and tried to compose himself. 

“So damn _little...”_ he exhaled, unable to tear his eyes away, “How are you going to- how can _anything_ be that small?”

A shake of the head was all it took for Avocato to banish the rest of his brooding. One last short breath allowed him to rise and place Little Cato in the little nest of blankets he’d set up on his own cot. It was a lot of room for just one kit, only making him look even _smaller_ all tucked up as he was. 

Avocato’s armour fell heavily onto its stand before he went to lie in the cot beside the bundle. With one finger he peeled back the swaddling and let the kit’s limbs and tail flop loose as he found a comfortable sleeping position.

Though the outside sky was twilight, both Avocato and Mewnagi had no obligations until tomorrow morning. Little Cato would be shoved in a pen with Mewnagi’s sons and any other kits that were less than a year old. There they’d scuttle about picking fights with one another until they were old enough to begin training, where they would learn to _properly_ pick fights. 

But right now Little Cato was frowning at no one in particular and Avocato had all the time in the world to be charmed by that. A soft hum grew in Avocato’s throat, one he’d never heard himself make, and soon the little brows relaxed and the kit flopped again to sleep facing his father. One large battle-scarred arm reached out to pull the nest of blankets closer, naturally curling around its warmth. With one more of those bizarre new hums Avacato was apparently capable of making, the kit finally settled and fell perfectly still. 

The last thing that caught Avocato’s eyes as the paternal satisfaction knocked him out was the gentle rise and fall of Little Cato’s chest. Breathing, sighing, and most likely dreaming about anarchy. 


End file.
